Psych101
by footshooter
Summary: Pre-Evolution of Harley Quinn; Harley's final psych placement in Arkham, leading up to Batman Begins.
When Harleen Quinzel got her mentor for the final stages of her psychiatry programme her friends, her peers, all pulled a face.

"Oh, as if Arkham isn't bad enough, you're stuck with _Crane_."

Harleen, ever positive, shrugged.

"Hey, the criminal units will be interesting. And Dr Crane is, like, one of the country's best, isn't he? He must be, to be in charge of somewhere like that, when he's gotta be, what? 30?"

Her friend snorted.

"Uh-huh. It's only coz no one else wanted the job. Why're you going into psychiatry anyway? It's all guesswork and frustration."  
"Well I like it. Where are you going?"  
"Gotham General. Orthopaedics."  
"Uh, god. That'll be so _dull_."  
"Yeah, and I won't get stabbed. Or sniped at by stuck up consultants."  
"Where ever you go you're gonna get sniped at by stuck up consultants."

Harley rolled her eyes.

"I'll get another round in, huh?"  
"Oh, yeah. Great."

* * *

It was with some amount of trepidation that Harley drove through the old, creaking gates at Arkham. She'd been here before on placements, but the thought of leaving always stopped the building looking so foreboding.

But, she had excited butterflies to go with her nervous ones, and she was looking forward to getting stuck in. She knew her stuff; she'd aced all of her exams…

She pulled into a space and turned off the engine, picking up her handbag and swinging out of the door. It was quite a walk up the driveway, and the early morning fog hadn't quite lifted, so a chill settled in her bones as she hurried up towards the doors. She had to yank them open to get inside, where the lights flickered and there was an awful smell of damp.

A woman stormed out of the door behind the reception desk.

"Oh, hey. My name is Dr Quinzel. I'm here for a placement?"

The woman looked her up and down with distain. It looked like she had blood on her white tunic. Her lips were painted bright red and pursed.

"Dr Crane expecting you?"  
"I think so, yeah."  
"Fine. Come with me."

She stamped off down the corridor, and Harley had to rush to catch up with her.

…

The nurse opened a door with keys and ushered Harley inside.

"Watch your back," she snapped, as Harley side-stepped a patient lying on the floor.  
"I have worked in psychiatric hospitals before," Harley said, with as little venom as she could muster in the circumstance.  
"Possibly not one quite like this though."

Harley turned around as the nurse jumped, and tutted.

"You're like creeping Jesus, you man."  
"Put your needle away, Mary. There's no need."

Harleen glanced back and saw Mary stowing a needle back in her pocket, cap on, but not exactly what she'd call hygienic. Mary went stamping off towards a patient knocking his head against a wall as Harley was frowning.

"I know, I'm trying to get them past it. I've not been in post long, and old habits are hard ones to break. Almost as hard as Mary's face."  
"You can shut your mouth, Crane. I'm not afraid to use this needle on you."

Dr Crane rolled his eyes, and started to walk away, further into the ward.

"You have to excuse the staff. It takes a certain kind of person to work in a place like this. Especially the way it was. They're set in their ways."

A cup was launched towards where they were walking, and Dr Crane ducked, pushing Harley down with him.

"And you get used to that."

Harley's eyes were wide, and Dr Crane almost smiled.

"I'm probably about to get yelled at now."

A patient flew round the corner, fury in his eyes.

"Ah, Mr Bradbury. Is this about your medication?"  
"I'm not taking any fucking tablets!"

It was an experience, if nothing else.

* * *

"Yes, I know you're struggling," Harleen said, hands on hips. "But I really need to see another patient right now. Can you not wait five minutes?"  
"You're as bad as him!"

"I'll take that as a compliment," Harley muttered under her breath, as Mary approached sideways, needle out. "Hey, Mary, what are you doing?"  
"I have some sedative-"  
"No! He doesn't need it!"

Mary tutted.

"You new-fangled doctors, he's got you brainwashed. You'll be thankful for this when one of them has you up against the wall by your throat."  
"No one's going to have me-"

A patient was prodding at Harleen's shoulder.

"Corey would you just wait a minute."  
"You said you'd talk to me!"  
"And I'm going to, when I'm done with Mary."

The patient, slowly, turned to stare at Mary.

"Do you want me to get rid of her?"  
"Uh, no. Come on, let's have a chat."

A patient sitting in the corner, largely silent, started to scream. Harley, shocked, turned towards him.

"Mary?"  
"Oh you want me now, do ya?"

Harley rushed over to the patient and crouched in front of him. He was staring blankly at a space in the doorway.

"Garth? Hey? What's wrong? Garth? Can you hear me?"

Corey followed, and started to tug on Harley's sleeve.

"Corey, you'll have to wait."  
"You were talking to me!"  
"I will, but this is an emergency. Can you go over there, please?"  
"No!"

Another patient ran through into the communal area, got right up in the screaming mans face, and started to yell, waving his arms around. Harley stood up, and Corey grabbed her arm and tried to pull her away.

"Corey!"

Harley shook him off, and got between Garth and Paul.

"Paul, what are you doing?"  
"I CAN'T HANDLE THE NOISE!"  
"Screaming at him isn't going to help. Go over there."

Paul grumbled, threw his arms up, and stalked off mumbling under his breath. Corey's eyes narrowed, and he followed him. Harley crouched back down and tried to get some form of response from Garth.

"Mary, I could do with some of that sedative now."  
"I'm getting it, I'm getting it."  
"Have you pulled your alarm?"  
"Alarm?"  
"For goodness sake…"

Harley stood up, pulled the cord on her alarm, glanced over her shoulder at Corey and Paul who were squaring up, and took the needle from Mary.

"Go and deal with them," she ordered, flicking the air bubbles from the syringe and hoping to god that it was lorazepam in there. She injected 2mL into the man's arm, and if anything, he screamed louder. She could hear Mary's shrieking adding to the mix.

"Garth, I need you to look at me. Tell me what's wrong."

The ward door opened, clattering against the frame as a response team ran in. They pulled Corey and Paul apart, as Harley put her hand against Garth's pulse point to measure.

"What's going on, Harleen?"

Harley jumped.

"He's histrionic, high pulse rate, I can't get him to so much as look at me, never mind actually talk. He just started screaming."  
"Have we medicated?"  
"2mg lorazepam."  
"Any response?"  
"No. Not yet."

Dr Crane nodded, crouching down in front of Garth.

"Mr Brown?"

Garth continued to scream, and Dr Crane, after staring for a little longer, stood back up and nodded.

"Okay, IM haloperidol to rapid tranq. He has a history of hallucinations and auditory commands. That does predispose towards making people a little anxious."  
"A little?"

Harley opened the drug cupboard and drew up 5mg.

"Well, you know what I mean."  
"He's never shown any anxiety before."  
"Well, people can develop anxieties. Especially in an inpatient setting. You have to remember these patients have access to television."  
"And?"

Harley injected the drug into his arm.

"Well, all of this stuff with the so-called Batman. He's targeting criminals. Would you want a giant bat following you through the streets?"

Garth stopped screaming, body relaxing into the chair.

"Dr Crane?"  
"Yes?"  
"The… Scarecrow…"

Harley glanced at Dr Crane, who frowned as Garth passed out into the chair.

"Interesting. I wonder if there's any childhood trauma relating to scarecrows."  
"Well, no one likes scarecrows…"  
"Farmers do."

Dr Crane turned around to see Mary advancing on Corey, who was being held by two burly men, with a needle.

"Oh, let him go, he doesn't need that sedative. Harleen, weren't you about to talk to Mr Miller?"  
"Yes, come on Corey, let's have a chat."  
"Mary, make yourself useful and do obs on Mr Brown."

Mary rolled her eyes, but went to get the machine.

"Mr Gomez, would you like to come with me?"  
"It was the screaming."  
"We'll talk about it. Come on."

* * *

Harley was elbow deep in paperwork, piles of the stuff, sitting in front of her laptop in Dr Crane's office because, quite frankly, no one dared disturb him and she needed to get this done before morning. She wasn't sure what time it was, or who was still here, but she had a pot of coffee to keep her tired eyes from closing and she was determined to get it done.

The door opened behind her and Dr Crane walked in. He didn't greet her, but that wasn't an uncommon occurrence. He appeared to be muttering under his breath. Harley frowned, and spun around in the chair to face him.

He started slightly.

"Oh. What are you still doing here?"  
"This report has to be done by tomorrow."  
"College deadline?"  
"Yeah."  
"Who's marking?"  
"You."  
"Then don't worry about it. Sleep's more important. Go home."  
"Is that concern Dr Crane?"

Dr Crane didn't respond, but twitched slightly, eyes flicking to the side.

"Hey, I think you could do with some sleep too. If I'm going home, you have to too."

There was another silence, and Harley blushed.

"I didn't mean-"  
"I know, don't worry."  
"You do look terrible. Maybe you should take a day off once in a while. You'll burn out."  
"I'm fine."  
"At least promise me you'll go home."  
"Yeah, yeah. Just get some sleep, Harley."

Harley paused putting her laptop in her bag, it was the first time he'd been remotely informal with her. She smiled most of the way home.

* * *

Harley was sitting in a review as the nurses argued amongst themselves. Dr Crane was staring at the ceiling, lying back in his seat, legs stretched out in front of him and arms folded. Harley was clicking the end of her pen.

" _And_ this isn't getting us started on the lack of prescribing by-"  
"Hey, we're not living in the past. No offense, but things have changed. We don't just jab people with needles and ask questions later. We're trying to help these people progress."  
"Oh, you want them on the streets?"  
"Mary, I'd be more concerned if I ran into you in a dark alley than most of these patients. Especially if you had one of those needles in your pocket."

Mary pursed her lips, and Dr Crane laughed, the first time Harley had heard him do so properly. It gave her a strange combination of butterflies. She blushed, and Mary pursed her lips harder.

…

Outside, after the meeting, Mary took Harley to one side and told her straight.

"Keep your distance from him, he's trouble."  
"Uhm, what?"  
"Crane. He's playing you."  
"Is he? I thought he was just helping me pass my exams…"  
"He doesn't laugh like that. Be careful."  
"I promise I will."

Mary grunted, and stormed away. Harleen rolled her eyes and walked away in the opposite direction, just to be sure. She came across Dr Crane coming out of the bathroom, rolling up his sleeves, and caught sight of a bruise over one of his veins. He had been looking ill recently, and she wondered whether he'd had some tests. It was about time. He was shrinking below his suits.

She didn't mention it, though. He was a hugely private person, and she knew he wouldn't respond to her prying.

"Hey, you see the stuff about Batman on the news?"

Dr Crane scoffed.

"We'll end up with him next."  
"You not subscribe to the vigilante mentality?"  
"It's someone with some serious issues, I know that much."  
"You think they'll catch him?"

Dr Crane laughed again, but it held none of the warmth it did before and it sent a shiver down her spine.

"Of course. I'd say he'd be here within a week."  
"I look forward to it," she said, diverting into the grottiest girls toilets in the hospital and wondering what the fuck could make someone seem so sinister within a matter of minutes.

* * *

Harley did not enjoy the walk between the docks and the hospital. Especially not on days like today, where the fog is so thick it looks like nighttime and it's cold and you can't see a damned thing in front of you. She did _not_ enjoy when someone came up to her and 'oh Mr Boat-Man has slipped over on deck and he can't get up could you be a dear and go make sure he isn't dying'. People could be lurking out here with knives and she wouldn't know until the last second.

A foghorn blared out and she jumped, squealing slightly, before shaking herself and huddling further down into her jacket. Her hair was soaked, she was going to have to sit in front of a radiator when she got back – if any of them bothered to work. She'd left Dr Crane poking at the boiler and swearing profusely. She didn't know why he didn't just get someone to come in and do it properly – but Mary had rolled her eyes and said that the one time they'd managed to get a guy in he'd been run at by a rather large patient wielding the pointy end of a spoon and word had just spread…

Bells rang out through the fog, and Harley didn't even know where there _were_ bells on site. She presumed they were in the clock tower, but the walls must be so thick inside of the asylum itself that you couldn't hear a damned thing from outside. She supposed that was a good thing, what with all the screaming, clanking and howling that went on inside. Fog just helped sound to travel, and no one wants to hear the wails of the criminally insane on the mainland. They just pretend those guys don't exist.

Harley sighed, squinting her eyes to try and work out whether the shape looming in front of her was in fact the ship she was looking for, or if it was another store cupboard. She got a little closer and could make out men sitting on the deck. She smiled, hurried forwards and slid on the wet wood, almost going arse over tit.

"Ugh, this weather huh?" she said, trying her hardest not to blush.  
"I think it's just a sprain; they didn't have to send you down. I feel pretty bad."  
"Ah, don't you worry. I'll just take a look."

Harley crouched down and pulled the man's trousers up to show one of the more obvious broken legs she'd encountered.

"Okay, well, that ain't a sprain, darlin'. I'll ring ahead for an ambulance to pick you up on the other side."  
"Will you find your way back through the fog alright?"  
"Oh, course I will. Been here long enough to know my way around."  
"You watch yourself, kid. I'm hearing there's weird things going on out here. I don't even like doing the shipments any more."

Harley frowned.

"What kinda weird things?"  
"Hey, I dunno. Just rumours about drug testing and shit. One of the guys that used to do this run refuses to now. Swears he saw a ghost when he was doing a drop up the hatch."  
"Oh, everyone says stuff like that. There's nothing weird going on, you can take my word for it."  
"You just look after yourself."  
"Honey, I always do. You wanna be worrying about that leg. Don't even know how you're still talking. Go on, get gone. I'll ring ahead."

Harley turned, pulling out her phone and ringing 911.

"Hey, yeah. I work at Arkham Asylum. One of our dockers has had a fall and broken his leg. Can you get an ambulance to meet him at the other end? Thanks."

Harley hung up and hoped to god that she was following the right path up to the doors when she got a horrible sense that someone was following her. She turned her head, and caught movement out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned fully nothing was there. She laughed, nervously, giving herself a shake and carrying on but the further she went the more sure she was.

Her pace got faster until she was almost jogging, breath echoing, her heart thudding in her ears. She'd taken a wrong turn somewhere, but she was close to the back of the asylum. Gravestones jutted out of the fog in front of her and something was still following her. She turned around, catching a glimpse of a cold, clammy hand stretching out in her vision, and could see the soil moving, things crawling out of the graves. She was rooted to the spot, so scared she couldn't run, couldn't scream.

A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped, squealing.

"Hey, Harley? You okay?"  
"Dr Crane?"

Harley's eyes travelled from the gravestones to Jonathan, and she leapt on him, pulling him into a hug and knocking his glasses askew.

"What?" he asked, and she let go of him, physically trembling, tears in her eyes.  
"I just saw… Did you not see it?"  
"See what?"

She turned back to the gravestones, the fog finally lifting, but there was nothing there.

"I swear…"  
"The asylum does strange things to the mind. We were worried you'd gotten lost. The heatings back on, you should come inside and warm up. A warm drink will help you settle."  
"I… Yeah, you're probably right. I'm probably just tired. And I hate fog."

A foghorn blared out and Harley jumped again, laughing nervously to herself.

"Feel I might need some of those tablets for myself. Geez. What're you even doing out here?"  
"Fresh air break."  
"Smoking, Dr?"  
"My only vice. Go on inside. I'll catch you up."

* * *

Alarms were blaring from the ECT suite, smoke billowing out of the door. Harley ran in, immediately coughing, the smell of burning flesh hitting her nose. Dr Crane ran in behind her.

"What the fuck did you do?" he yelled.

The ECT guy was deathly pale, hands trembling.

"I- I gave as much as you said. It just- it jumped back. I've never seen anything like it."  
"Is he dead?" Harley asked, coughing.  
"Well he's hardly going to be coming to dinner, Harleen."

A crackling noise started behind them, and they stopped, silently, and stared. The damp on the walls was lighting up blue, sparking and crackling, smoke pouring from it.

"Is it in the wiring?"  
"Shouldn't be, the walls are pretty thick."

A light of electricity shot up from the body on the table. Static could be felt in the air. Groans started to come from the table.

"Oh Jesus Christ," Harley said.  
"Did he just defib himself?"

Electricity was shooting from the walls, and the patient was convulsing, screaming, but there was no way to get close enough to do anything about it. A jolt hit Harley in the arm, burning, and as it did the patient sat up, opening his eyes and pointing towards them. All of the electricity in the room gathered in his hand, building down his arm.

"Mr Zeus," Crane said, hand up, palm flat. Harley moved behind him.

The blue sparks were crackling on his arm, forming together. He smiled, and then started to laugh as he flexed his fingers.

"Shit," Crane muttered, grabbing Harley's arm and sprinting towards the door. It slammed behind them, shuddering against its hinges as a bolt hit it, charring through. Maxie's laughter could be heard echoing through the room, interspersed with something that sounded like lightening.

"Holy fuck. What just happened?" Harley stammered out, spluttering, smoke still in her lungs.  
"I dunno, but this isn't going to do anything for his god complex."

Harley almost laughed, but then the screaming started.

"James is still in there."

Jonathan didn't respond.

"Dr Crane?"

Jonathan was staring off into the middle distance, his attention snapping towards her. Something behind his eyes was completely different.

"We need to do something!"  
"Do we?"  
"He's going to die!"  
"Yes."  
"Jonathan, what the fuck?"

Harley turned and opened the door, a shockwave hitting her as she did, throwing her backwards into the wall. The air crackled as her vision swam, and when she woke up she was in the hospital.

She had no recollection of getting there.

* * *

It was early when Harley walked in to the office. Dr Crane was asleep, head on the desk. The door snagged and he sat up.

"Harleen?"  
"Hey. I, ah, just popped in. It's…"  
"Your exam today, right?"  
"Oh, yeah."  
"Don't sound so surprised I remembered. Everything's signed off. You'll be fine. Just do your best."

Harleen nodded, then paused.

"I'll come back later, tell you how it went."  
"Sure."  
"Maybe we could go for a drink?"  
"Yeah."  
"Alright. I'll see you later then."  
"Good luck, Harley."

* * *

When Harley got back it was late and the asylum was its usual post-dark, creepier self. Mary gave her a big hug when she told her she'd passed and was remarkably nice.

"Have you seen Dr Crane?"  
"Uh, I actually don't think I have. Did you want him?"  
"Well yeah. I said I'd come back."  
"Oh. No. I've not seen him."  
"Funny. He doesn't usually break promises…"  
"What kinda-?"

The sound of the generator stuttered and stopped with a grinding noise that shook the whole asylum. The electric locks clicked off the windows and the doors of the cells surrounding the more complicated patients.

"They'll come back on…" Mary said.  
"I thought there was a backup."  
"There is. It hasn't kicked in."  
"I'll ring Dr Crane."

Harleen crossed her fingers as the phone went to voicemail.

"He's not answering."  
"Geez, great night to get a date."

Something clicked, and a hissing started.

"Mary?"  
"Don't worry, honey. I'm sure there's a perfectly rational explanation…"

Shapes were appearing in the corner of Harleen's vision, and they were growing and morphing up into something terrifying. Harley was frozen to the spot as the screaming started. Footsteps thundered around her and she felt dizzy, but didn't want to drop, otherwise the creatures would get her. But she couldn't breathe, and her heart was thundering. The world started to turn cloudy and dark around her and suddenly, she couldn't fight it anymore, and everything went black.

* * *

When Harleen woke up she was in Gotham General, attached to a drip. It sounded hectic. She opened her eyes slowly, adjusting back to the light, confused.

"Hey, don't sit up," her friend Andrea, from orthopaedics said. She looked concerned.  
"What-?"  
"You got a pretty big dose, Harley, you're lucky to be alive. Passing out in Arkham like that."  
"I passed out?"  
"Some guy practically killed a police officer coming in to rescue you."  
"Must be Corey. What happened?"

Andrea frowned.

"The police are going to want to speak to you."  
"About Corey? That's okay. He doesn't understand what he's doing. He'll have just been looking after me."  
"No, about Dr Crane."  
"What happened to Dr Crane?"  
"Oh. You didn't notice anything weird about him lately?"  
"No more than usual…"  
"He… Well, this was all him. He's been developing a Toxin. He set it out in the water supply."  
"Oh."

Harley's head was spinning.

"We were gonna go for a drink tonight. Could he not've waited one day?"  
"Harley!"

A policeman knocked at the door.

* * *

Harleen was offered a contract up at Arkham almost as soon as she was out of hospital, the same day she woke up just after she assured the policeman she'd had no professional worries or concerns about Dr Crane's conduct, and it was actually a rather big shock.

When she traipsed up the wrecked drive in the dark that estates had clearly given up cleaning for the day an ambulance flew past and a response team, armed with needles, rushed out to meet it.

Mary had a black eye and what looked like a broken nose, but gave Harley one of the biggest hugs she'd ever received.

"I'm so glad you've came back, we were worried you wouldn't."  
"Well, Arkham's swallowed me like everyone else."  
"We're struggling with some of the patients, the antidote doesn't seem as effective on certain people. We need some guesswork."  
"Surely Dr Crane could-"  
"Oh, honey. He's on your caseload now too."  
"What?"  
"He's a total wreck. He was brought back by the Batman. I think he's been dosed with a high amount."  
"Well, we've got antidote…"  
"No, _Gotham General_ has antidote. They won't release it for him."  
"What? Why?"  
"I dunno. Call them and ask. But he's causing chaos. Even the big, macho Bat had him in a straightjacket."  
"We're not-"  
"I know. He's in seclusion now. But he's just screaming and hitting the walls."  
"He'll be terrified."  
"Well, it is his own fault."  
"Mary!"  
"Oh, come on, do you remember how it felt?"  
"Well yeah, but we treat worse people than that. He didn't _kill_ anybody."  
"Maybe it's _not_ a good idea you take his case. You were always sweet on him."

Harley scowled.

"I'm taking the goddamn case, Mary. Where is he?"

Harley stamped off before she answered, flicking through the notes in her hands. She wandered down through the halls, getting to darker, damper, colder territory; the cold seeping into her bones, making her shiver. The walls kicked up shadows from the flickering lights.

Harley found his cell, and he was sat, crouched in the middle. His arms were scratched, his fingers clamped into his palm, blood seeping out. Harley clicked the tannoy, opening the window so he could see her if she turned around.

"Uh, Dr Crane? My name is Harley, you remember me?"

Jonathan stopped rocking, his shoulders stiffening and he turned, slowly. She could see how rapid his breathing was, so she smiled as reassuringly as she could.

"Hey."

He started to scream, she could see his heart almost beating out of his chest, thin shirt moving, flickering rapidly. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, his eyes bloodshot, underneath his eyes so dark she couldn't quite tell if it was a bruise. He screamed so loudly and for so long she reached for the alarm at the side of his cell, but when she did he stopped, and he stared.

"Harleen?" he said, his voice strained and croaking.  
"Yeah, that's me."

Jonathan Crane started to laugh, even more sinister in the echoing room with his broken voice. He laughed for so long he started to retch.

Harley pressed the alarm.


End file.
